rants, inquiries, and general offerings. explicit language within. you have been warned.

subtitle

maybe "rants" isn't the right word. these are simple thoughts about my life. some may be more colorful than others. some language may be offensive, but it depends on your definition of offensive. consider this your warning ;)

20 December 2013

People are funny. Anyone that has hung around me for more
than fifteen minutes knows I like to laugh and that my sense of humor is
awesomely broad, finding entertainment in so many things. But that’s not the
kind of funny I’m talking about tonight.

I’m talking about how you use your voice. And not in a
technical, vocal theory, Seth Rudetsky kind of way, but in the speak up for
yourself and voice your opinion, first Amendment use your voice kind of way.

If you’re on social media sites a lot (which is probably
applicable if you’re reading this, by nature of the beast), then you have
probably noticed a swarming of posts regarding Phil Robertson, aka the Duck
Commander of A&E’s Duck Dynasty. If you haven’t, or haven’t read any of the
articles, here are a couple to get you going

Drew asked Phil a question. Phil answered and shared his
opinion about homosexuality and some chatter about growing up in Louisiana.
This opinion was taken as a huge kick in the pants and spit in your eye to
those in support of marriage equality and pro-LGBT communities. After this
article was released, A&E places Phil on “hiatus” and suspends him from the
show.

There are two general posts I’ve noticed about this
situation:

1. Down with Phil and the whole Duck Dynasty crew for
believing in something different from what I do.

2. Hooray Phil for speaking what I believe in.

How about this, folks, when it comes to your opinion…

You’re right.

We’re all right in our opinions, and surprise, there will
always be someone with a different view.

Yes, I agree with the principle that a man was asked his
opinion and that he shared it. There’s nothing illegal about that. There isn’t
anything illegal about publishing it either.

And I don’t work for A&E nor do I know what the
conversation was that led to his suspension from the highly-favored show he is
affiliated with. For all I know, the suits behind the show may have wanted this
backlash to occur and arranged this as a stunt to really bolster viewers in
support of Duck Dynasty, filtering out those that don’t share in Phil’s views.
But I don’t, so I kick back and watch so many people flail about the online
pool of bullshit.

Here’s where the crowds wake up, which leads me to my view
of how people are funny.

Social media posts are a great substitute for current event
news shows. Whenever someone dies, a major event happens, someone farts in
church, anything. I can gauge how grand something is by the variety of people
that post about it. When Nelson Mandela died? A few posts here and there. But
Obama’s Selfie-gate? That turned into as big a deal as him getting re-elected.
Paul Walker’s death. Everywhere. Billie Jean King going to Sochi. (High five if
you didn’t have to Google that, or Billie Jean King.) Barely anything.

People like to sound off when it’s something people are
talking about, and it’s usually something that doesn’t affect them directly,
but they have an opinion about.

Shocker. You can have an opinion about something. Tell me
what you had for lunch, I’ll have an opinion about it and tell you a story
about why that pisses me off.

And I get it. I really do. It’s easy to share an opinion
when it’s about something that doesn’t directly affect you, reflect on you, or
make an actual difference in your own life. Because if you do share something
about how feel and you offend someone or ruffle their feathers, then, oh snap,
you’re getting ignored, blocked, defriended, or worse, not paid attention to.

What about the last time you ordered food at a restaurant
and your order was wrong and you didn’t say anything because you “didn’t want
to be that customer” or “cause any trouble.” Or the time that awkward co-worker
keeps ogling you or making obscene comments about your sister, wife, or
daughter. Or what about any other situation like bullying, harassment, or using
words like “gay” or “retarded” in a derogatory manner. Did you speak up then?

Probably not. And I’ll be the first to tell you that I’ve
been guilty of this too. But I’ll tell you what…in the last two years, I’ve
made a conscious effort to say something when someone says something is “gay”
or refers to something as “retarded.”

Because that can actually help. That’s using my voice to
make me world around me a little better.

Complaining about what someone else did, or defending them
when they don’t know you from Adam just feels like waste of time. And maybe I’m
wasting my own time, telling you that it’s a waste of time. And so what if it’s
ironic that I’m sharing my own opinion?

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, relax. Take some
of that energy you have, some of that pomp in your step, and some of that fire
in your pocket and refocus it. Try thanking people for things that you make
take for granted. Try helping someone out. Try asking someone how they’re doing
and actually hang around long enough for them to tell you.

I don’t agree with Phil’s point of view, but I’m not mad at
him for sharing it. He was asked. But I look at him like any other celebrity.
Yeah, he’s a public figure and people enjoy him and his family for
entertainment, and yeah he’s supposed to be aware of what he says, and I’m sure
he is. But is what he says or does paying your bills or raising your kids?
(well maybe it is the latter if your tv is raising your kids, but that’s a
different story.) Is the private life of an athlete really going to make you
stop rooting for your team? Or is the social life of an actor or actress really
going to make you enjoy their beautiful performance any less?

Because if it is, then you should probably take a vacation.
By yourself. For a while.

I believe in marriage equality, human rights, civil rights,
and the pursuit of happYness.

I acknowledge that there are still racial inequalities and
that makes me sad.

I hope to see the day where there is no more salary
disparity between women and men.

Guns don’t kill people, people kill people, and no amount of
regulations, background checks, waiting periods, or anything will keep a
criminal from committing a crime.

The act of going to a church doesn’t make you a better
person. And neither does not going. You make yourself a better person.

Will there always be people I disagree with? Yes. And some
of those people are some of the coolest I may ever meet, but I’ll tell you
this, at least they know what they stand for, whether it’s what I stand for or
not. And as long as they listen more than they preach, I’ll sit and chew the
fat with you.

So preach on, Phil Robertson. Speak your mind. I do, but I
don’t have the millions to be famous enough for anyone else to care. This may
not be read by even twenty people. But I said it. And I’ll say it again.

I’m sorry you feel that way, because the world is changing for the better whether you like it or not.

But who am I to you? No one. I’m just some Asian kid from
the bay area livin in the heartland of America, and guess what? That’s totally
cool, because you have your opinion and I have mine, and I can respect that.

I just wish people would use their voices more powerfully.
To do something that’ll actually make a difference, and not just spend it on
topics that won’t change anyone’s life.

Love yourself. Speak with honesty and conviction. Worry
about the safety of your family and don’t think you’re above anyone. Your
marriage won’t hurt mine. My owning a gun won’t have anything to do with your
grandchildren. My vote in the booth is for my children. And don’t think my
appreciation for country music is an attempt to blend in with the crowd. I’ll
bump some Tupac too, but don’t be afraid, I won’tcut you.

17 December 2013

Looking out the window of my kitchen this morning, I was
drawn in by the erratic paths individual snowflakes fly. Yes, we’ve heard it
all before…

“People are like snowflakes, unique and beautiful in their
own way.”

But what I saw led me to these subsequent thoughts:

Snowflakes are like people in many ways, but obviously not
completely.

We travel individual paths, but not completely out of our
own control. (At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.)

A gentle breeze may blow us around, dusting the earth with
wintry highlights, but as we accumulate, we can bring destruction upon things
that are not ours.

When seen from inside, behind the safety of a window, we are
safe from the masses and are protected from the bitter cold they are flown in
with.

When molded and forced to collaborate by children, artists,
and free spirits, snowmen are created, erecting something joyful for others to
appreciate.

Snowflakes only exist in certain conditions, in select parts
of the world, during specific times of year. Some people feel they can only
survive in certain conditions, whether it’s year-long tropics or seasonal,
metropolitan or secluded.

We’re part of a cycle that, as many understand, to be finite
and quantifiable, but can be viewed as snowflakes do, recycling over centuries,
traveling great distances between continents and oceans, sharing the same
planet that prehistoric creatures did and future generations will to come.

Sometimes, if you jump early, you can be smothered by those
that follow blindly, or even by chance, but in someone or something else’s
search for life or food, you can be unearthed, discovered, and redirected.

White is a color of purity for many people, and as the white
snow falls to the ground, cars drive by, and dirt is mixed in, leaving it dingy
and different, but not necessarily wrong or repulsive. As people, we enter the
world without judgments, needing security and food, but as we travel our own
roads and are kicked around by other travelers and become dirty ourselves, we
can appear repulsive to others, but we are still ourselves.

And when the sun shines again we have lived through our
time. Hopefully we have brought joy to others, but there will undoubtedly be
those numbers that cause pain, suffering, and hardship for many they don’t
know.

Bruce Lee said, "Be water, my friend" and snow is still water
with a little persuasion from the elements, so I think we’re still capable of
doing some good.

That’s the voice I heard in my head as I drove home from
work today. In a light snow, well after the sun has set, I thought, “How can
you not be romantic about winter?”

Don’t get me wrong, I miss my California family, and I’m
excited as all hell to see them for Christmas, but the more I think about it,
the more I’m not really looking forward to the warmer weather.

Call me crazy, and many of you already do when it comes to
this, but the lack of four seasons where I’ve lived on the west coast isn’t my
preferred weather cycle.

Yes, I love 70 degree weather and the days like April 25th
where all you need is a light jacket (don’t judge, it was on tv yesterday and
my wife was watching it), but this past year, seeing the seasons actually
change here in one of Jason’s “flyover states,” I miss having four seasons even
more than I thought I would when I left Virginia to come back to California
years ago.

Tonight, as I drove home, and also when I admired the fresh
powder on the grass walking up to the door, I realized why I love snow in the
winter so much—it has been a part of a few winters along the path of growing
up.

In the winter after boot camp, I was still in Illinois for a
couple months before transferring to South Carolina. For this California kid’s
first winter in the Navy, the snow from the Great Lakes piled higher than waist
level around base.

On a North Atlantic deployment with The Mighty Rickover,
this time twelve years ago I was in Norway. Yeah, it was cold. Definitely the
coldest place I’ve ever been in my life, but damn was it gorgeous. Taking the
tram up the mountain and seeing the fjords as snow drifted down from the
heavens is something I’ll never forget. Walking through the plazas past
decorated buildings, snow filling the cracks of cobblestone walkways. Truly
breathtaking. Standing outside the club eating pizza from a place nearby
because we felt like a food break between shots and dancing.

A couple of weeks in Maryland, working at Aberdeen Proving
Ground and getting a taste of Baltimore.

My last winter in Virginia Beach, playing in the park during
the day and driving around in my truck at night to see the Christmas lights.

And now this winter, living with my wife, driving home from
my one, full-time job to spend time with my wife in our toasty, little
apartment with our mild-mannered Christmas tree and a couple of dorm-lifestyle
chairs.

Eventually the winters will be spent in California again,
and when they are, I’m sure we’ll enjoy our time with our family and friends
who are much closer geographically than they are now. But at some point, I’ll
think back to the snow. The places where jackets are actually needed for warmth
and snowball fights and snow angels aren’t just pipe dreams.

I, like many others, accept and enjoy satirical posts from
The Onion and Cracked.com. I don't consider myself to be an expert on really
anything, but I sure as hell haven't heard of Modern Woman Digest to be a
satire-posting site.

That being said, I'm utterly stunned at this post that was
written to be published with whom I'm assuming to be loyal readers, knowing
there would be a massive influx of new ones. Granted, there is a disclaimer
from MWD at the end of the article, and there was a link to a follow up article
regarding the author's moving into protective custody, but damn, this is some
really messed up stuff.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who's
going to take a sick day because someone whom I'm never met has passed in a
wreck that some may say was deserved. But what I will stand for is respecting
the dead and perceiving them as a friend or family of someone else who is
grieving. Someone who caused me no harm, regardless of what happens in his
private life. (So yeah, feel free to comment and “take a side” about his 23
year old girlfriend who he had been with since she was 16, I’ve read those
articles too.)

Also, I see posts like this and it makes me hurt for the
community of journalists, storytellers, and writers that aren’t out for shock
value and hit counts. Writers like these get their posts shared, and I wholly
acknowledge that my furthering the process is only aiding the intended result,
but I’m not doing it without adding my commentary, obviously.

Yes, the comments within the article’s post are there, and
many of them are commonplace to any opinionated article, but seriously though…

This is probably one of the most disrespectful posts I’ve
ever read.

I don’t think I’ve read anything else by Adora Bull, and
maybe I will, just to see how far off the deep end she’s gone with this one, but
part of me hopes that the majority of her posts are as grossly inhumane and
disrespectful as this one.

Full knowing you may never read this post, my sincerest
apologies for the article that this is in response to, family and friends of
Paul Walker.